


Someone in the dark

by Cactusepique



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotion hurt, Multi, TW: Mind rape, physical violence, unhealthy Missy/twelfth Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cactusepique/pseuds/Cactusepique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Someone was singing in Gallifreyan. It was a sweet female voice–with no face to go with–forming archaic words and vowel sounds in the dark. It was soothing–lulling someone into awakeness. </p><p>A small light was switched on and River slowly opened her eyes."</p><p>Title from Listen, Doctor who S8. Big Thanks to Inkfire for helping me with this !</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone in the dark

Someone was singing in Gallifreyan. It was a sweet female voice–with no face to go with–forming archaic words and vowel sounds in the dark. It was soothing–lulling someone into awakeness. 

A small light was switched on and River slowly opened her eyes. She felt dizzy and like she was restrained. Panic rushed through her, she struggled and quickly found that she was tied to her bed and gagged. She didn't remember what had happened to her. 

"We fought," said a warm voice as a woman stepped from a dark corner of the room and climbed onto the bed to straddle her hips. River moved in alarm, but she only hurt herself with the ropes wound around her ankles and wrists. "Sorry, honey," continued the woman, "I didn't have handcuffs." 

River tried to yell, but only a muffled sound came out, and the woman smiled. "Shush," she admonished, "I don't need you to talk." The woman raised her hands to her hair and pulled her pins out. She shook her head slightly and her long, dark and wavy hair fell on her shoulders. "See anything you like?" she teased as River studied her with murderous eyes. She was a middle-aged woman, dressed as a scary Edwardian nanny, with a wicked smile and clear, piercing eyes. 

"We fought and I'm afraid I knocked you out, dear," said the woman. "You had the upper hand, though," she added, and she waved her hands at River as a child would. "But you know, Time Lady skills, help you drift off in no time!" That was when River noticed the bruises on the other woman's cheeks and the traces of blood on the corner of her lips. "I don't mind," giggled the woman, following her gaze. "I liked it, must do it again." 

She leaned forward, and her voice was low and dangerous. "Next time I'd be soaked in your blood." She laughed at River's horrified look. "I didn't introduce myself," deplored the woman. "I'm Missy," she said with a little smile, "but I have to admit I rather enjoy being called Mistress." She chuckled lightly. "But not a word from you. It's not what I need you for. You'll only say boring things," she warned. 

She suddenly pinned River against the mattress and giggled at her shocked gasp. She leaned forward to stroke her cheek, and relished River's petrified look. She could have used mind control to paralyze her and get what she wanted easily, but it would have been no fun. She loved feeling her struggling beneath her, loved the terror in her green eyes. It was thrilling. River would be a much more worthy opponent in her future. She'd learn how to hide her emotions and she'd never sleep without a gun tucked under her pillow. For the moment, she'd only been studying in university for a few months. She was way younger than the graduate River who would one day be caught by the Silence and restrained in a spacesuit. There were still little bits of innocence in her to be ripped away. 

The ends of Missy's hair brushed against River's face, and her fingers were ghosting over River's temples. River shook her head violently, her curls dancing around her head. Her aggressor soothed her, her fingertips skimming along her features, almost lovingly, but undeniably threatening. "You won't let me in, will you?" Missy complained, pouting like a child. "I'm going to be very sad if you don't."

She could have dropped her into the arms of the sandman again–it would have been a quick and easy job–but Missy wanted to play with her prey. She pulled back a little and rested her hands on River's chest, just above her breasts, where her double heartbeat pumped madly in her ribcage. "Two hearts," stated Missy, seeming repelled. "He raised an army for you. He died once for you," she continued dreamily, raising a hand to stroke River's hair, and the latter wriggled beneath the touch. "But do you know what?" A crazy smile crept over her lips. "He only loves you because of those two hearts. And because he doesn't know I'm still alive."

"You're a beautiful thing, I'll give you that," she carried on, and looked River directly in the eye. Fear, anger, insecurity, so many emotions were there. It was exciting–making her all warm and wobbly on the inside. "You were a weapon, a warrior, a murderer. You were mad and wonderful, shining like hell itself," Missy said, low and breathy. "You could have been brilliant but you ruined everything. And for what? For love," she rasped. Her hands glided along the shaky frame beneath her, and she began to stroke River's sides, brushing over her nightgown. "But he won't love you forever, my dear," Missy purred. "Sooner than you think, you'll die, and he'll forget those lovely curves of yours," she snapped, and her gentle smile was in sharp contrast to her words. "Everything ends. Except he and I."

"Do you want to know how it happened? It has already happened for him, you're dead," Missy confessed and River closed her eyes. "Look at me," came the order, and she tilted River's chin up and bent over her. "You burnt. You burnt for him and he's the one who gave you the fuel to light the flame. And he left you, stored you in a big computer, archived you, gave you what he thought was a piece of heaven and left with no goodbye. Hard drive hosting dead people, what a good idea." 

Missy laughed–a sharp, hysterical sound–and River squeezed her eyes firmly shut. They snapped open when she felt her head being held in a vice-like grip. Then she was there. Missy's mind, bright and terrifying, blazing against hers, seeking hers. The Doctor had started to train her, taught her a thing or two, but he'd been gentle and patient–asking, hesitating, his mind brushing her own in the softest of caresses. 

Missy wasn't. She invaded her mind, rough and careless. She felt a resistance but quickly pushed through it. She wasn't exploring, she was conquering. She heard River's mind yell, felt her distress. But pain, fear and disgust were only encouraging her in her assault. She wanted to wreck her. Her mouth sought River's closed eyes blindly, and she found tears there. She kissed them, tangled her hands in River's curls, nails scratching her scalp, and lay over her. She hummed contentedly as her mind settled down in River's. She didn't care that River was shuddering uncontrollably beneath her. But if River was crying, she was also gathering herself and her mind was forming deathly promises. 

"I like you." Missy smiled. 

 

Missy had the upper hand. She'd won, she was in control. She felt River's mind wrapped against hers, seeking a weak point, panicking, trying to lock her thoughts away from her. But she was slow, she was weak. She was a beginner. Missy had centuries of practice. She wasn't usually a very subtle Time Lady. She was theatrical and she loved showing off. But she loved mind submission. It was smooth. "I'd love to drive you mad. But I'm not here for that. It's the Doctor I want," her mind whispered in River's. She promptly found something she liked. An intimate moment between the twelfth Doctor and his beloved wife. She prefered this him to his former self, too childish. And the old Scottishman was the one she planned to meet. She heard River's protests, and she didn't listen. It was an enjoyable moment. And they'd both relive it. 

River had a good memory, Missy had to admit that. It was full of details, colorful, and the sensations felt more than real. It was funny how the Mistress felt like it was her in the Doctor's arms, even if she could see blond curls bouncing in the corner of her eye. She shut them. She'd picked a good one. She'd assumed the eleventh one would have been a shy and gentle lover, afraid to take control, faltering and hesitating. This one wasn't. He wasn't gentle, and she wondered if he was always like that. He was taking her roughly, all needy and demanding, but she could still feel the devotion as he worshipped every part of her shaken body. Her name was on his lips, rolling over like a prayer–like she was a goddess above him, and it would have been perfect if it had been her name he called instead of River's. She wanted to cover her ears or become deaf to everything but his panting breaths and her moans. There was a desperation in the way he clung to her, and she wondered how long it had been since the last time he'd seen his wife. She didn't care. He pressed her to him possessively as his eloquent fingers explored her, making her whole body tremble with delight. He was biting, leaving marks on her, taking her eagerly and she loved it. She expected him to form a telepathic bond with her, but he didn't, and simply inched inside her. He set a steady pace and crushed her against him like she was everything–life, death and time itself. She fell apart and he followed her, burying his head in her neck as they calmed. 

She felt River struggling to catch her breath, not the River of the dream, but the one she'd assaulted. She giggled. She wasn't giggling in the Doctor's arms and it was simply too painful a reminder. She wasn't a protagonist in what had just happened. She was passive, only a watcher with the benefits of feeling what River had felt. She didn't have any control over it. River was breathing heavily, naked and fulfilled. And so was Missy. 

River's memories kept rushing through her as the Doctor held her tight in the quiet and vulnerable moments that followed. He slid out of her and his grip on her softened into gentle caresses up and down her back. He kissed her very tenderly, lingering on her lips, his breath brushing against hers, drinking her in. And finally, finally his mind sought her own and she felt his love, wrapped in thoughts he gave her, words his mouth would always be too afraid to shape. He was afraid he might have hurt her and he held her like she was a fragile and beautiful thing, the finest of china. Then his lips glowed bright against the bruises and the marks he'd left on her. When he looked up at her with so much love in his eyes, it was unbearable. 

He'd never look at her the way he'd looked at River. 

She suddenly felt a violent shock, like being punched in the jaw, and pain rushed through her. It left her dizzy and half convinced she'd just seen stars. She quickly reckoned it was River, taking advantage of her little blissed out and vulnerable moment to kick her out of her head. Never get distracted when you're raping someone's mind. 

Missy ran. She ran from River's mind, she ran from the warmth of the Doctor's, where she'd felt loved. Neither feared, nor worshipped. Just loved. 

Back into her own consciousness, she slapped River, who was still restrained. She grabbed her throat, slightly squeezing, feeling her distraught double pulse under the skin. In a second she was in her mind again, but this time she used her mouth to speak to her. "I'm going to make you forget this. Don't get me wrong, I'm not merciful. But you can't tell him I am back," she threatened. "And you won't. You're going to feel sick and won't know why. You'll feel stained, broken, and you won't let him touch you for weeks. He won't understand, neither will you and you'll feel sick," she told her. "Good luck with that." 

Her mind hovered over River's as she stole her memories away. Then she dropped River into the arms of Morpheus, undid her restraints, tucked her in bed and with the light buzz of her teleporter and a flash of bright light, she was off. 

 

River woke up crying from a nightmare she couldn't remember. She felt tainted and she took a long, warm shower. She felt broken and she shed tears. She felt empty and she called the Doctor. 

She let him hold her. 

He sang to her in Gallifreyan, lulling her to rest.


End file.
